


The Groom(ing)

by BobbySinger (wylf_storm)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, Four-Winged!Cas, Grooming, M/M, Wings, idk its just really sappy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-13
Updated: 2014-11-13
Packaged: 2018-02-25 06:46:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2612198
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wylf_storm/pseuds/BobbySinger
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel needs some help grooming his wings, but there's more to it that Dean knows about.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Groom(ing)

**Author's Note:**

> Okay so this was the other prompt from [msfcatlover](http://msfcatlover.tumblr.com) that I got like 35574837925 years ago and I've fiNALLY written it out. I started this ages ago but hated it, so it's had a complete revamp since then. Enjoy!

Really, it was quite unfair having a body and _still_ having wings to look after, especially when there was no easy way to groom them. How was one supposed to get to the alula feathers on the arch or to the tiny scapular feathers at the base of a wing when there was a shoulder in the way and a human arm wouldn’t bend in the right direction?

Castiel tried futilely to reach further behind himself to force the dark feathers into submission, but to no avail. There was absolutely no way he was going to be able to properly groom himself without help.

He sighed. Things were never this difficult back in Heaven; but then again, if he were in Heaven, he’d be thoroughly dead before he could so much as open his mouth.

Castiel shook his head morosely. Better to suffer through a small inconvenience. He was glad for the Winchesters, but the grooming of one’s wings was incredibly delicate matter, usually reserved only for those closest to the holder like a mate or dear sibling. It was rare even for friends to give assistance with grooming, personal as the task was.

Which is why it had to be Dean, of course. They shared a more profound bond after all.

It wasn’t that Sam wasn’t close to Castiel – quite the opposite, Castiel considered him a brother in arms in all respects but blood – but Castiel had pulled Dean from Hell, pieced him together and restored him to life, and in return Dean had visited Castiel through the toils of his brief stint with humanity at the Gas’N’Sip. They had supported each other and found that they stood up to the task well, which is more than Castiel had expected of himself. He had known that Dean was fiercely loyal, but didn’t realize that Dean’s kindness would extend to his banished self. He desperately hoped at this moment that it would extend to helping him groom his wings.

Castiel vanished them from sight, the feathers he couldn’t reach jarring and itching in a most uncomfortable way but he ignored them and flew to the Winchesters’ location. Sam and Dean lay on parallel motel beds, Sam reading and Dean watching television.

“I require assistance.” He announced and neither Winchester jumped much, although Sam did raise an eyebrow. Several years of unexplained and unannounced arrivals did that to a man.

“Assistance with what, exactly?” Dean’s eyes left the TV and fixed on Castiel, attention held in full.

“I… I need grooming.”

“There’s a hairbrush in the bathroom, go nuts.” Dean’s eyebrow twitched upwards and Sam went back to his book. Castiel, to his shock, had to make an effort to keep his voice level when he next spoke.

“I don’t mean my hair, Dean. I would prefer it if we spoke outside.” Castiel left him no option out, and stepped forward to fly them outside the room, Dean barely giving half a shout before Castiel steadied him on the asphalt next to the Impala. “Dean, I need help with grooming my _wings_. _”_

_“_ I- oh.”

Castiel watched in silence as Dean’s face blanked, then as he seemed to reach a decision and nodded. “What do you need me to do?”

Castiel balked a little, and couldn’t help himself from twitching. It was one of the side effects of having been human for a while. He was much more at ease in a vessel, even though Jimmy Novak had long since moved onwards to his own personal heaven. Castiel was reassured that it would certainly be somewhere far more pleasant than sharing a body with him.

“You will help me?”

“That’s what I just said, yeah,” Dean’s hands were shoved into his jean pockets and he lounged against the side of his car. There didn’t appear to be a trace of resentment for the upcoming task within a ten mile radius of him. Castiel blinked.

“It would be best if we did this inside, or somewhere secluded. I don’t think people would take well to a man with wings, and grooming is a rather- ah, _private_ matter.”

Dean nodded in accordance. “Lead the way then.”

Castiel stepped towards him and placed a hand on his shoulder, ready to fly again. “Close your eyes.”

When they landed, Castiel was pleased to see that Dean had done as instructed. It was a different flight to his usual, as he flew lower to the earth this time due to his wings, and the change in the space-time continuum would have upset Dean’s eyes.

The clearing they landed in was broad and surrounded by dense forest, the same clearing that Castiel had left to retrieve Dean. The hunter surveyed the location, taking in the flora around them.

“You’ve been here before?”

Castiel walked to the centre of the clearing and sat down. “Yes. This place is warded against anything that isn’t approved by my grace. There are sigils in the trees against humans, although the nearest town is several miles away.”

Dean spun slowly, still looking. “So what exactly do you want me to do, Cas?”

“Wings require arranging so that the feathers all lie the same way in order for us to fly accurately and comfortably. I can’t reach the feathers at the back of my wings or close to my back, so I need your help.”

Dean shrugged. “Okay, let’s get going then.”

Castiel stood but paused before doing anything else. “It would be easiest if I did this without any unnecessary clothing on,” he said slowly.

“As long as you’re not getting naked, I can deal.” Castiel nodded, and loosened his tie to remove his shirt after sliding his coat off. He sensed Dean’s breathing accelerate, but assumed it was from nerves. He laid all the clothing neatly on the grass beside him before turning to regard the trees, his back to Dean. “Step closer to the edge of the clearing or among the trees if you must. I don’t want to hurt you,” Castiel warned before his shoulderblades tensed. He was vaguely aware of Dean doing as he advised and standing close by a tall birch tree as he concentrated on bringing his wings out.

In all honesty, it was a little more dramatic than normal. His wings erupted outwards into a spread position as though they had been simply resting against his back, unseen (which technically they had, but on another plane).

Dean made a hushed awed noise, and Castiel could feel his eyes roving over the black feathered limbs. He folded them quickly to be able to turn smoothly. “You can come closer, Dean,” he reassured.

“So this is what your wings look like,” Dean said mostly to himself. He reached out a hand, but drew it back before touching the feathers. “Can I?” Castiel nodded.

Dean’s touch was gentle, his fingers only barely making contact with a single feather. He got bolder though, his fingers slipping into the spaces between the feathers and combing them downwards. Castiel sighed quietly in contentment.

“Like this?” Dean asked, his hand not stilling.

“Exactly like that.” Castiel let Dean get the feel of his wings for a few more minutes until he swayed dangerously on his feet. “If I lie down this will be easier for us both,” he said, and proceeded to lie himself chest-down on the grass, his wings spread either side of him. He heard Dean sit down to his left and rearrange himself until he was comfortable, upon which time two hands sunk themselves into his feathers.

Castiel felt his back twitch and restrained a groan.

They sat in silence, Dean combing his hands through Cas’ feathers, no noise but for the wildlife and the occasional sneeze from one of them.

“Bless you,” Castiel said when Dean turned back to face him after a particularly powerful sneeze over his shoulder.

“Thanks.” He grinned. “Does it mean more coming from an angel?” Dean had shifted closer, sitting almost against Castiel’s side to reach the feathers closest to his shoulder blades. “What does this feel like for you?” he blurted.

Castiel thought about his response for a moment before speaking.

“It’s much the same to me as if someone ran their fingers through your hair. You don’t feel your hair specifically, but you know when certain things happen to it. For example, if I pulled your hair you’d feel it because your hair is joined to your scalp. It’s not the hair that hurts, it’s where it’s attached.” Castiel turned his head to see Dean’s reaction. He nodded slowly, fingers still working near Castiel’s back. “However, it’s a lot more pleasurable for me. Angels feel it when their feathers are displaced and it’s not comfortable in flight or in general. We would normally do a grooming once every three years or so. It takes a lot to ruffle our feathers, as you’d say.”

Dean chuckled from somewhere behind him, and his fingers unconsciously dug in a little deeper.

Castiel moaned.

“Y’okay there Cas?” Dean asked, and Castiel sensed rather than saw the faint blush that coloured Dean’s face.

“Yes, it’s just- that feels good, Dean.” Castiel hoped that Dean wouldn’t push the matter.

“What, like this?” Dean repeated the motion, digging his fingers in between the feathers a little deeper and harder. Castiel moaned loudly again, then turned his head over his shoulder to see Dean grinning to himself. “Guess you weren’t kidding when you said this was nice for you, huh?”

Dean kept at it, even going back over the areas he’d already straightened out with firmer fingers. Castiel had to make an effort to keep himself in check.

“Hey, uh, is it normal for feathers to fall out?” Dean said nervously.

Castiel shifted onto his side to look at the two black feathers resting in the palm of Dean’s hand. He barely thought before he said, “keep them.” Even though Dean didn’t understand the significance of the gesture, it still made Castiel want to duck his wings to show his intentions. Castiel shook his head slightly to clear it of foolish thoughts like that.

Dean rolled the feathers between his fingers before tucking them behind his ear for safekeeping.

“Y’know, if you’d brought Sam too this would be a whole lot fas-“

“No,” Castiel sat up abruptly and cut off the rest of Dean’s sentence. “Sam cannot be here.”

“Woah, shit okay, I was just saying.” Dean raised his hands in defeat. “What’ve you got against Sam being here anyway,” he said, and Castiel didn’t miss the slightly offended tone in his voice on behalf of his brother.

Castiel resisted the urge to sigh. This was one of the questions he’d been hoping to avoid. “Grooming is undergone by only one angel and one other to help them.”

He could almost hear Dean frown. “So why not Sam? He’s a fuckin’ nerd, he’d totally be on board for this.” Dean’s voice didn’t sound irritated in any way, just curious, which made something behind Castiel’s ribs ease considerably.

“Wings are personal, Dean. I couldn’t choose just anyone to help me.” Castiel knew that they were beyond the point of no return with the questions that were going to enlighten Dean to Castiel’s untenable position. Some part of him wanted Dean to remain oblivious to his feelings so that it wouldn’t complicate things between them, but a larger part of Castiel wanted to be honest about it. He viewed Dean as more than a friend, and the fact that Dean was here, grooming his wings only certified the matter.

“So… why me? If wings are so personal, why not another angel then?” Dean asked finally. The million dollar question.

Castiel got his knees under himself and rolled to sit cross-legged in the grass next to Dean whose legs were splayed out straight in front of him.

“Dean, grooming is only done by someone the angel trusts completely. Even friends wouldn’t groom each other, it would be too strange between them. Wings are the appendages that carry us, shield us, defend us, arm us – an angel’s wings are everything, the most important thing given to us by our Grace. They’re our status and standing, and we would share feathers only with one we trusted wholly and wanted to have a part of ourselves, to have a _bond_ to us. Grooming means contact with the feathers, and if someone were to keep any there are a number of harmful spells that can be done with them, but given freely they are a sign of courtship.” Castiel paused in his tirade and took a fortifying breath. “Do you see now why it had to be you?”

Dean’s mouth was slightly open, his eyes fixed on some indistinct point behind Castiel’s head while he processed the information, the two feathers behind his ear casting a faint shadow over his cheek.

“Oh,” he said finally.

Castiel didn’t even realize he had drawn his wings up around his shoulders in a defensive cocoon until Dean laid a hand on the arch of his left to gently push it down. Castiel let him, watching carefully.

“So what you’re saying is,” Dean pulled the feathers from behind his ear and held them gently between his forefinger and thumb, “these mean you want to, like, angel date me?”

Castiel held a hand over his face, partly because of Dean’s choice in words, partly because of his crippling embarrassment. “Not that I would have chosen such blunt terms, but yes.”

It looked like Dean smiled, but his hand passed in front of his face as he tucked the feathers behind his ear once again, so Castiel couldn’t be sure.

“Okay,” Dean said, and pushed Castiel’s wings down to his sides from where they had crept around him once again.

“Okay?” Castiel asked uncertainly, his wings folding behind him from Dean’s gentle pushes.

“Okay,” Dean repeated, shuffling closer on his knees. “I can handle that. Now are you gonna let me finish this other wing or what?”

Castiel lay back down on his stomach and tried not to fret as Dean worked his way across the other wing, starting from the furthest primaries and working his way across the coverts in to the scapulars by Castiel’s shoulder blades as he had with the other wing. His fingers stayed firm the whole time, and Castiel managed not to let himself make a noise, right up until Dean started kneading the joint of his wing and back.

“This really gets you goin’ huh Cas?”

Castiel’s response was to groan pitifully when Dean’s fingers found the soft spot underneath the wing socket. Dean laughed softly from somewhere above him. Dean’s fingers slowly migrated down Castiel’s back, massaging him as they went, all attention shifted from his wings to kneading the muscles along his spine.

“Dean-“

“Shh, just let me.”

Castiel let him. When Dean reached the dip just above the waistband of his pants, however, Castiel turned out of his reach.

“Dean.”

“Cas.”

Castiel scowled at Dean’s mimicry.

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” Dean asked, scooting across in the grass to sit at Castiel’s side. His wing twitched outwards in longing to wrap around him, but Castiel stopped himself. It was too bold, too soon.

“Why didn’t you say about the mate thing? I don’t have to do a ritual, do I?”

“I didn’t tell you because it’s not coital, Dean. It’s an emotional and Grace bond to another being. I don’t want- I don’t want _you_ for your looks. Just- just _you._ ” Castiel turned his head slightly to the side. “And no, there’s no ritual.”

Fingers on his jaw gently turned his head back towards his friend, and Dean leaned forward just enough to gently press their lips together.

“I can’t say I don’t like the way you look, but yeah, I hear what you’re saying. So do you want to stop freakin’ out about it and kiss me properly now?” Dean murmured, his hand still resting on Castiel’s jaw.

Castiel immediately sealed their lips together once again, his mouth falling open to slot against Dean’s more firmly, a warm tongue exploring and coaxing his own. He was panting slightly when he drew away.

“How long do you think we can spend here before someone starts trying to find us?” Dean wondered, one hand absently settling itself on the scapulars by Castiel’s back.

“That depends on how long it takes you to groom.” Castiel stood and stretched, his wings stretching too before he withdrew them back to their normal plane.

“We’re done though, there’s just you, me, and a whole lot of time to spend making out. If you want,” Dean added, lying back in the grass of the clearing, the feathers behind his ear still wedged firmly in place making Castiel’s heart swell.

“Yes, you, me, and another set of wings. I have four, Dean.” Castiel proved it by materializing the smaller pair of wings, set just below the first on his back.

Dean rolled over and groaned into the earth. “You’re kidding.”

“I’m not. But,” Castiel sat by his head, “if you’re quick, then I don’t think Sam will mind another half hour absence.”

Dean heaved himself to his elbows and settled himself in behind Castiel, the angel just shy of leaning on him due to the feathery appendages.

“Even if he minds, he can shut the hell up about it.” Dean began combing his third wing of the day, Castiel’s quiet noise of pleasure making something warm blossom in his chest. “I’ve got a wings to look after, now.”


End file.
